


Shiny and Chrome Wedding Bouquet

by GeneralSan_3



Series: Mad Max: Floral Road [2]
Category: Mad Max Series (Movies)
Genre: F/M, The obligatory wedding fic, This is part two of my floral AU, Tots has trouble not putting angst in stuff, bc this fandom owns my soul, so there's def some angst, sorry in advance, there's gonna be at least three parts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-25
Updated: 2015-09-11
Packaged: 2018-04-17 05:09:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4653579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GeneralSan_3/pseuds/GeneralSan_3
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Floral AU wedding!! And as Furiosa and the Sisters find out, weddings aren't all smiles - there's a lot of things that could go wrong! Between Angharad taking her Maid of Honor duties VERY seriously and the Dag's weird superstitions, this is going to be a wild ride!</p><p>Part 2 of the Floral Road Series.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Five Days Out

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: For anyone expecting lots of fluff, I NEED TO APOLOGIZE IN ADVANCE. The first few chapters are more angst than fluff. I have a serious problem and it's called Rockafury and I needed to get some of their amazing easy/hard relationship in there. Plus, this wedding is definitely calling up some demons for the Sisters (I WILL NEVER CALL THEM THE WIVES AGAIN) so that was something I felt they needed to work out. But I do promise a happy ending. :)
> 
> Also, I don't own the characters or anything from Mad Max: Fury Road. I just love it and have a lot of feelings.

Furiosa woke up in a cold sweat, strangling the air. She laid back as quietly as she could, but she knew without looking that Max had come awake at the same time and was now analyzing her stiff posture.

"This wedding is a mistake," she finally muttered. "We should just call it off."

He didn't answer for a long moment, then shifted closer to her, laying a gentle hand on her arm above the nub and nuzzling his face into the crook of her neck.

"Fury, it's not your wedding," he said quietly. "You need to stop trying to cancel it."

"If you'd back me up," she muttered resentfully.

He hummed into her neck, his hand gently massaging her arm, and slowly she found herself relaxing into his touch, her eyes drifting closed.

A suddenly memory, the lingering aftermath of the dream that had woken her -

_The smell of blood, of sweat, the palpable taste of fear. She screamed in defiance . . ._

She tried not to stiffen, to let him feel her fury and anger as the memory overwhelmed her once again, but she felt his hand on her arm halt in its comforting, mindless movement, and he seemed to still completely - she couldn’t even feel his breath on her neck anymore.

“Are you all right?” she asked softly, shaking away the memories.

He didn’t make any sound or move for another three long breaths. Finally, he grunted low in his chest and rolled away onto his back. A minute later, he was snoring.

Furiosa put her hand on her arm where his had been a moment ago and felt very cold suddenly.

* * *

Toast had opened the store before she got there, and glanced up from her long row of boutonnieres to cast a reproachful glare at Furiosa as she stormed in.

“You said you’d be here early to help me with the - _hey_ , Furiosa -” She called as Furiosa brushed past her and pushed her way into the office.

Furiosa pulled the door shut behind her and glared around the room. _Coffee. I need coffee._ She dropped her duffle bag by the desk and headed for the newly-installed machine in the corner. Capable, bless her, had already made a pot, and she poured out a cup and sipped it, trying to unknot the tension in her shoulders.

Toast banged open the door, talking before it was even open. “I _said_ , Furiosa, I need your _help_.”

Furiosa’s shoulders were suddenly as tense as they had been before the coffee.

Twenty minutes later, Toast’s problems had been resolved and she had subsided to her workstation, still muttering resentfully, and Furiosa turned wearily to the computer to look at the orders that had come in overnight. She sat staring blankly at the computer screen, her shoulders tensed and hunched.

“Bad night?” a voice asked quietly from her left.

 She glanced at the woman standing next to her, who was pursing her full lips and tucking a strand of blonde hair behind her ear.

“Yeah,” Furiosa said, straightening and attempting a smile. “But I’m fine, really.” She laid a hand on Angharad’s shoulder briefly, then glanced around at the other woman’s work station. “How are the table arrangements coming?”

“Not great,” Angharad growled, rubbing the back of her hand along her forehead. “The orchids from Gastown are late. I called them, and they claimed they never got our payment -”

“I’ll handle that,” Furiosa said firmly. “Order them from somewhere else, if you need to, but they have to be here by tomorrow, understand?”

Angharad nodded firmly, gently pressing Furiosa’s arm above the nub and then hurrying away. Furiosa turned, and almost ran headfirst into the Dag, who was standing just behind her, face half-hidden behind a curtain of white-blonde hair. Blue eyes peered out over Furiosa’s shoulder, and her lips twitched. When she spoke, it was in an ethereal, far-away murmur.

“You need to talk to Capable,” she said, her hands rubbing together distractedly. “I’m really worried.”

Furiosa glanced back at her, her heart beat suddenly pounding in her ears. “What’s wrong?” she said, a little too sharply.

The Dag met her gaze with a relieved little gasp and clutched at her arm. “Do you know what month it is? It’s May.”

Furiosa blinked.

“Do you know how unlucky it is to have a wedding in May?” the Dag demanded. “And she won’t listen to me -”

“Dag,” Furiosa said, firmly removing her arm from the other woman’s grasp, “I’m really busy today, so -”

The Dag moved closer and seized her arm again. “And do you know what I saw on my way into work this morning?” She leaned so close that her breath hissed into Furiosa’s ear. “ _A blind man!_ ”

Furiosa waited a moment for the punchline, then nodded once to pretend comprehension as she stepped back. “The new flower orders are supposed to be in this morning,” she said in her best _get-to-it-soldier_ voice. “You think you can handle all of it?”

This seemed to snap the Dag out of her reverie. “Can you handle your paperwork?” she retorted. “But - really, will you talk to Capable? I’m so worried that something will go wrong.”

The bell over the door tinkled, and Furiosa glanced around to see Nux walk in, his face brightening when he saw Capable across the room. To her critical eye, the young man looked tired - his shoulders slumped, his eyes shadowed.

_Wedding nerves_ , she told herself. But she couldn’t help watching him as he settled down at his station, wondering at the grimace of pain that clouded his face when Toast clapped his shoulder on passing, the way his hands shook as he set up his station.

These impressions stayed with her as she reviewed the day’s orders, as she sat down at her desk and gave another futile effort to organize her papers, then sat gazing out the window for a long while.

“Mail,” Cheedo said, poking her head through the door.

Furiosa nodded, and took the pile of mail with an attempt at a smile, then spent the next few hours in a daze. She went through her normal routine of assessments, payroll, follow-up calls, checkbook balancing, logistics, and cup after cup of coffee.

She had gotten through the entire stack of mail when the contents of the last envelope made her freeze, then reread it through a haze of rage.

Grabbing the office phone off its hook, she punched in a number with trembling fingers.

She made it almost all the way through the call without yelling, but when the nasally voice on the other end had repeated itself for the seventeenth time without any seeming attention paid to her objections, she found her voice rising.

“I _paid_ that bill, if you crooks think -”

The nasally voice expressed its surprise at her vehemence and returned to its original suggestion.

She suggested where he could stick his suggestion, and then there was no point continuing the conversation. Slamming the phone back into its cradle, she leaned back, running trembling fingers through her hair.

Through the door, she could see Max moving flowers from the delivery table to the truck with the same deliberate care he always used. Her eyes shifted to the clock and saw that it was three PM; he was always early.  He was gone a minute later, with no attempt to approach her; this was in itself completely normal - so why did she feel so betrayed?

_You’re losing it, Fury_ , she told herself.

She returned mechanically to her tasks, wishing wearily for a shoulder rub and wondering how the coffee pot had gotten empty. Again.

Finally, at closing time, she glanced at the end of her to-do list and groaned. She pulled open her door and looked around at the other women.

“Where’s the list of Nux’s family? Do we know what flowers we need for them?”

“Um.” Capable fidgeted. “I asked him earlier but he sort of - ran out. I _tried_ , Furiosa -”

“ _Four days_. Four.” Furiosa drew in a deep breath and tried to smile at Capable’s worried face. “Don’t worry. You all should get home - it’s six.”

“Don’t forget about Capable’s bachelorette party tomorrow night,” the Dag said, grinning as she stuffed random odds and ends into her purse. “You’re coming, right, Furiosa?”

Furiosa grunted noncommittally and retreated into her office.

  



	2. Four Days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More pre-wedding shenanigans.
> 
> Once again, HUGE thank-you to the awesome [Spizacki](http://spizacki.tumblr.com/) for all of her hard work making cute art for this story :)  
> And please feel free to contact me [here](http://tater-tots-last-of-the-romanovs.tumblr.com/) if you want to gush about Mad Max or Tom Hardy or anything really.

The beeping of her phone roused her, and she found herself with her face pressed against the piles of paper on her desk, her hand gone numb under her head, her legs tingling and her spine sending out grumbles of complaint. She wrenched herself upright by degrees and found to her displeasure that she had somehow fallen asleep with her prosthetic still attached, and the dangling weight had given her at least two new knots between her shoulderblades.

She checked her phone. _2 Missed Calls and 1 New Message From A. Splendid_ , it said. She opened the message.

_Got bad news. Did you go home last night? Tried calling Max’s but he said you weren’t there._

She replied: _What news?_

The reply came after only a a minute. _Groan. More bad. I’ll tell you when I get in. You never answered my other question._

Furiosa set her phone down and raised herself wearily from the desk, casting her gaze out through the glass door of her office to the dimly-lit workspace beyond. It was deserted, and a quick check of her wall clock informed her that it was 4:23 AM. She considered getting into her car and going home. She wondered if Max had stayed up waiting for her.

She went to the corner of her office and made a pot of coffee, then began sifting wearily through the piles of paperwork that were always waiting for her.

When Cheedo and Toast walked in at 6:45, chattering over their Starbucks, they waved at her and settled into their work, and she replied with a brief wave of her flesh hand. They were working on the arch arrangement today, and setting up the table vases. Furiosa ducked out of her office and called, “Toast, did the new order of floral foam come in?”

“I’ll check,” Toast called back. “We got you a scone.”

“Bless you,” Furiosa said, taking the offering, and vanished back into her office.

By the time Angharad and the Dag had arrived, trailed closely by Capable and Nux, Furiosa felt almost human again.

Angharad knocked and poked her head through the door. “Come on in,” Furiosa said, gesturing with her flesh hand.

“Want to hear how my day is going?” Angharad said, smiling slightly as she stepped into the office. There were bags under her eyes.

“Did you sleep?” Furiosa asked, surveying the younger woman with a frown.

“Did you?” Angharad retorted, sinking down into the chair on the other side of Furiosa’s desk.

“What was the bad news you wanted to tell me?” Furiosa asked.

“Capable’s dress was too big at the fitting yesterday, so they’ll need to make more adjustments.”

Furiosa groaned in reply. She reached for her coffee cup. Empty.

“Nux still hasn’t gotten me a list, and those schmegs at Gastown won’t send the orchids, and I can’t find anyone else who carries Vanda Pachara this time of year.” She paused, looking at Furiosa with her lips pressed together. “Did you yell at them on the phone, Furiosa?”

Furiosa grimaced. “Possibly. I’ll take care of it.”

“I don’t know,” Angharad said, pressing her hands against her forehead. “It feels like _everything_ is going wrong.”

The Dag met her gaze with a knowing look and hissed “ _It’s because the wedding is on a Saturday_ ,” as she passed the office door.

“Oh,” Angharad said wearily as she rose to leave, “Max was in after delivery last night. He’s worried about the delivery van. I guess he heard a knocking in the engine.”

“I’ll take a look at it later,” Furiosa said.

She saw the bill on her desk again and let out a long breath, trying to hold back the anger. Reaching for the phone, she picked it up and dialed the number once again.

_Calmly, Fury,_ she told herself.

Five minutes later, she was yelling again. She slammed the phone down and sighed into her hands, then swiped them over her face and rose creakily. She headed out the door and straight for the corner where Capable and Nux were eating their sandwiches, laughing softly together over a realtor magazine. When they saw her approaching, she could see the blood visibly draining out of Nux’s face.

“H-hey, Miss J,” he said, trying for a smile.

She nodded in greeting. “You got that list for me?” she asked.

“Oh - um,” he responded.

She waited with a purely spurious facade of patience as he sputtered and looked around the room for salvation.

“You _do_ have family coming, right?” she asked. “I’d hate for your father and mother to show up and us not to have any flowers for them.” She looked at Capable, who was glaring rather. “Sorry to interrupt your lunch,” she said, turning and entering her office again.

_I’m starving. No wonder I’m so grouchy,_ she realized. There was a granola bar smashed under files in her bottom desk drawer, and she chewed at it while she reviewed the expense reports from the past month. When she could take no more of that, she rose and headed out of her office.

“Nux, I need that list by three, you hear me?” she said, noting the way he was suddenly avoiding her gaze. “I’m going to take a look at the van,” she called out, in case anyone was wondering.

She went out by the back door, which led out to a tiny private lot where they had their dumpster and parked the van.

The van was there, but the hood was open and _someone_ was tinkering away down in its bowels. He had discarded his leather jacket for once and she took a (possibly sleep-deprived) moment to appreciate the view of him in his t-shirt and jeans. Then she approached him, her arms crossed.

“Find anything?” she asked.

He glanced up at her, his face smudged with grease and his eyes still far away. It took a moment for his gaze to focus on her, and he grunted.

“Checked the spark plugs - and the cylinder. Maybe someone put the wrong kind of fuel in her.”

“Any damage to the pistons?” she asked, ducking her head under the hood beside him. “I think Capable put some gas in it when she was checking out the venue last week. Should I ask her what kind she used?”

He hummed doubtfully. “Should be ok for now. Just maybe remind them what kind she needs.”

She nodded and turned to leave, but his fingers on her wrist stopped her. She glanced back to see that he was looking over his shoulder at her, his blue eyes narrowed in the sunlight.

“Hey. You ok?”

She had to look away from him before she could nod. He let her go and she trudged back into the shop. When she got back into her office, she noticed that her wrist was smeared with engine grease from his hand. She left it like that.

She kept track of time by how many cups of coffee she had drank. Four cups later, Toast leaned into her office with a smile and said -

“You’d better be coming tonight. Angharad’s counting on you - she’s been planning this party for weeks.”

Furiosa blinked, tearing her gaze away from the tax form she had been reading. “Sorry? Party?”

Toast heaved a sigh. “ _Furiosa_. Capable’s hen party! It’s tonight, in a half-hour. You’re coming, I’m sorry, you have no choice in the matter -”

“There’s going to be drinking?” Furiosa asked, setting down the paper with a sigh.

“Well, yes. And I know it’s a weeknight but this weekend’s no good, with Capable’s family getting in so late -”

“I’m coming,” Furiosa said, standing and reaching for her coat.

“Great! See you there,” Toast grinned over her shoulder before vanishing out the door.

* * *

By the time Furiosa arrived at the party, things were already in full swing. Angharad greeted her at the door with a ridiculous party hat and bellowed instructions in her ear -

“We’re playing a game! Anytime anyone says ‘Nux’ or ‘wedding’ or ‘marriage’ we all have to take a shot!”

Furiosa slipped the hat under her arm and headed over to the table where, by the looks of things, plenty of shots had already been distributed. The bar was decidedly _not_ her scene - colorful lights blinking everywhere and casting threatening shadows, pop music throbbing over the chatter of the crowd.

“Furiosa!” the designers chorused, making room for her with delighted faces.

“We were just giving Capable advice for her big night coming up - you got anything?” Toast leaned over the table to yell at her.

“Oh - well, I’ve never been married -” Furiosa said.

“Shot!” Cheedo cried happily, handing the tray around. There was much giggling and coughing around the table for the next minute. Furiosa knocked hers back and readjusted her prosthetic. There was a group of men a few tables over who kept throwing looks their way, and she stared back, blank-faced, for a moment until they all looked away.

“Ok, new game!” Angharad bellowed, handing out shots to everyone. “Don’t drink them early,” she said sternly to the Dag and Cheedo, who giggled madly while clutching at each other. “You all know how to play ‘Never Have I ever,’ right?”

The clamor and laughter that ensued, along with increasingly dirty references, began to make Furiosa’s head ache. She found herself speaking less, and before long even the alcohol felt choking.

She rose and reached for her coat. Angharad met her glance with raised eyebrows and she muttered, “Need some air.” She threaded her way through the crowd to the sidewalk outside, which was lit only by flashing neon lights and a single streetlight half a block away. All around her, late-night partiers wound by, calling out and laughing in tones that grated against Furiosa’s ears.

She leaned against the battered phone booth and took in deep breaths, enjoying the cool night air. She was considering taking a walk when a hand touched her arm. She turned to see Capable, her cheeks shining like two red lights and her eyes dark in her face.

“Hey, can I talk to you?” she asked.

Furiosa frowned, but nodded slowly.

Capable let out a ragged breath and bent over, gripping her knees. “Sorry,” she said finally, straightening and meeting Furiosa’s worried glance. “I’m ok, really. Shots aren’t my thing.” Furiosa nodded, glaring around at the crowd around them and wondering when she would be able to leave. “Angharad wanted me to talk to you,” Capable said at last. “I’m getting really nervous.”

“Why? Is something wrong?” Furiosa’s mind ran over all the things that could have gone wrong, then fixed on the most likely. “Did Nux say something? Do something?”

“No.” Capable shook her head. “I’ve had some bad experiences before. My last boyfriend was really sweet until I moved in with him - then he started hitting me.”

Furiosa froze, her hands curling and tightening into fists. An image of Capable as she’d first known her - a pale face with determined eyes, bruises rises on her pale skin. “You kept going back to him.”

Capable shook herself like a dog shedding dew. “I didn’t have anything else back then. If it hadn’t been for you and Angharad . . . You’d tell me if I were making a mistake, right?”

Furiosa chewed on the inside of her cheek, picturing Nux’s drawn face and his habit of never meeting her eyes when he was nervous. He hadn’t met her gaze for the past week, at least.

“I can’t make the decision for you,” she said at last. “He seems to really care about you.”

Capable’s face softened as she smiled. “He does, Furiosa. He really does. But all this - whatever it is about his family. He won’t talk to me about it. I’m just - scared.”

“Listen, I’ll find out why he’s acting so weird about that,” Furiosa said, laying a hand on the red-haired woman’s shoulder. “You stop worrying and go enjoy your party.”

“Heads up!” a voice called from behind them, and suddenly Capable was drenched in some black substance that - to Furiosa’s nose - was partly fish, partly motor oil.

“What - _Dag?_ ” Capable sputtered, wiping foul-smelling goop away from her face. “What in the name of - _what is this?_ ”

“It’s for luck, Capable!” Cheedo called out from the doorway, screeching with laughter.

Furiosa shook off a few drops that had gotten on her and had to bite back a smile at the murderous look that was straying across Capable’s usually-calm face. “Don’t murder them,” she whispered to Capable. “Think of the paperwork.”

“Angharad has extra clothes for you,” the Dag said reassuringly. “But first - we have to walk around the bar and let everyone see you!”

“Murder is starting to sound better and better,” Capable muttered to Furiosa, but she submitted to be led away back into the bar.

Furiosa glanced at where her car was parked only a few feet away, knowing that she was in no condition to drive, but tempted to try anyway. A few feet away she saw a couple furiously making out against the wall of the building. She squinted - “Toast?”

Toast broke away long enough to say, “Oh hey Fury - ” before she was right back at it.

Furiosa shook her head and glanced longingly at her car again.

“Hey,” a voice said from behind her. She turned to see Angharad, who had her hair in a messy updo and was in some kind of frilly romper. “You’re leaving now? Are you going home?” Furiosa met Angharad’s gaze. Once again, she noted the dark circles under the younger woman’s eyes.

She forced a smile. “Of course I’m going home. You have fun.”

Angharad smiled in return, but her eyes told Furiosa that she was unconvinced as she also went back into the bar.

Furiosa left her car and walked. She walked until her head cleared, enjoying the cool night air of the desert, the familiar gasoline-and-cigarette-smoke scent of the city streets, and before she knew it the sun was rising. And someone was calling.

_Fool_ , the caller ID informed her. She felt a pleasurable thrill in her stomach before hitting the _Answer_ button.

“Hey,” she said.

_“Angharad’s in the hospital,_ ” he said in her ear. _“Got mugged.”_


	3. Three Days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yay Warboys in this chapter!! (BTW anyone who is wondering why I haven't written much about the Vuvalini, stay tuned because I have a whole other story planned :D )

The facts, once she’d sorted through them, went like this - Angharad had arrived at the flower shop early, around 6AM, possibly hoping to get to work on her arrangements before the morning rush. Two men had approached her, and after threatening her with a knife, had taken her purse and were then dragging her around the back of the building for most likely some terrible purpose. Providentially, Max had also been there early, heard her screams, and knocked one of her attackers out cold and given the other one a cracked jaw and four broken ribs.

“What were you doing at the shop so early?” Furiosa had asked Max. He had replied with a shrug, a grunt, and:

“Couldn’t sleep. Kept thinking about the pistons.”

Angharad herself had sustained a heavy blow to the head and some road rash, but luckily she was responding well to treatment. Capable was staring at the floor and Toast was pacing around the waiting room while the Dag (herself blank-faced) held a sobbing Cheedo. Max hovered in the background for a while, silently nursing his bandaged knuckles, then was gone when she looked around. Nux, Furiosa found, was nowhere to be seen and nobody could reach him on the phone.

Finally, a doctor approached them with a practiced smile. “Miss Jobassa?” he said, looking them over.

“That’s me,” Furiosa replied, heaving herself to her feet and trying to project calm. “Anything new?”

“The MRI scan came back and your girl came up clear,” the doctor said. “We’ll keep her overnight, just to be safe, but she’s conscious and talking. No permanent damage.”

Furisa thought of those two men hauling Angharad over the rough pavement, and remembered a tall, skinny girl almost eight months pregnant with hard eyes and a desperate determination to get away from her old life, and shuddered.

“W-will she be able to make it to the wedding?” Capable said, coming to stand next to Furiosa. “It’s on Saturday - she’s my Maid of Honor. Oh gosh, that sounds so selfish . . .”

“It’s a little early for me to be able to make a recommendation, miss,” the doctor said. “She’s awake, but I’m only going to allow one visitor for now.”

As a group, everyone looked to Furiosa. She shook her head and nodded to Capable. “Let her know that she’s to take all the time she needs,” she said. “I’m heading to the shop. If anyone wants the day off -”

“No, I’ll come,” Toast said, and the Dag and Cheedo stood with her.

It felt strange to be at her desk again, surrounded by paperwork, as if nothing had happened. She tried to focus for the better part of an hour, determined to get something - _anything_ \- done. Being hung over didn’t help.

The atmosphere in the shop was quiet and tense, and most of the women had dark circles under their eyes. Cheedo, in particular, winced at every noise that was louder than a whisper, and Toast was snapping at everyone. The Dag was pale and silent, and her eyes darted around the room fearfully. Furiosa glanced at them and sighed.

“Toast?” she called out the door. “Has Nux got me that list yet?”

“No,” Toast said, slamming a flower catalogue shut and rubbing a tired hand across her forehead. “Capable reminded him _twice_ yesterday.”

“We’re three days out!” Furiosa snapped, reaching for her prosthetic. “Do we have an address for him? I’m going to _wring_ his skinny little - never mind.” Wearily, she rubbed at a knot in her shoulder.

“Have you seen the forecast for Saturday?” the Dag said to the room at large, chewing at her lower lip. “All the channels were predicting full sunshine with no rain!”

“Oh but - isn’t that _good_?” Cheedo asked.

“Of course not!” the Dag hissed. “It’s the most terrible luck - ”

“I wish you’d lay off with all those dumb predictions.” Toast snapped.

Furiosa groaned softly and raised her head. “I’m going out for a while, text me if you need anything.”

“Where are you going?” Toast wanted to know.

“Gearhead territory,” Furiosa replied.

Cheedo laughed, then sobered when she looked more closely at Furiosa’s face. “You’re - you’re joking, right?”

“I’ll be back in a couple of hours,” Furiosa replied. “Anything happens, _call me_.”

* * *

Gearhead territory was deep in the maze of downtown Citadel, near the auto factories and southwest of the slums. Furiosa had to take the long route in order to avoid the Buzzard area, but finally found a spot to park her car next to a gutted warehouse. Two young men were lounging against its graffitied walls, eyeing her as she got out of her car.

“Hey baby,” the taller one said with a slow grin. “You lost?”

“Shame about the arm. And the hair.”

“Still, wouldn’t mind a piece of that a-”

Before he could even finish the sentence, she had him laid out on the asphalt with a quick jab to the solar plexus, and his buddy barely had time to gasp in surprise before she was straddling him on the ground, her flesh forearm pressing into his windpipe. The other one struggled to rise, but could do little more than wheeze imprecations in her vague direction.

“I’m having a really really bad day today,” she hissed, digging her arm deeper into his throat. “I’d suggest not pissing me off further.”

She looked at the two of them more closely, noting the elaborate tattoos that were visible on their exposed skin, and the dark paint on their faces that deliberately evoked skulls. “You’re a Warboy, right?” she said to the one she had pinned. He choked, nodded. “I’m looking for Nux,” she said. “Point me in the right direction, and you might get to keep your nose.”

“What, you think I’m an idiot?” he panted. “I’m not telling you anything.”

“I haven’t made up my mind about you yet,” she said evenly. “This isn’t my first run-in with one of your kind.”

He glared up at her for a moment and then grunted. “What d’you want with Nux?”

“Just want to talk to him. I’m a friend.” She started to get off of him, warning, “Don’t try anything.”

He got to his feet, rubbing his throat. “Don’t want any trouble,” he muttered. “No strangers allowed in.”

“Your loyalty is commendable. But I’m no stranger. What’s your name?”

“Morsov. And that idiot down there is Slit.”

“What’s she saying to you, Morsov?” Slit groaned from his place on the floor.

Deliberately, she turned and tugged down the back collar of her shirt so that the marking on the back of her neck was clearly visible. She heard Morsov let out a low whistle and turned back around, watching as he backed slowly away from her to where the other Warboy was watching with pain-dulled eyes.

“Slit! Hey Slit, she’s got the mark.”

“The mark?” Slit whispered. “What is that schlang-eater doing with our mark?”

“I dunno,” she heard Morsov say in hushed tones. “I think - I think it’s Furiosa.”

Slit was silent for a long, doubtful moment, his gaze resting on her suspiciously, taking in her prosthetic arm and shorn head, finally saying, “If that’s really Furiosa, then it ain’t so mediocre to get taken out by her, right?”

“Naw,” Morsov agreed, grinning maniacally. “Kinda shine, all right. How do you know Nux?”

She ignored the question. “Just point to where I can find him - I’ll make my own way there.”

“Sure. He’s just down the road there, getting treated by the Organic Mechanic.”

Furiosa’s eyebrows twitched. “Is he sick?”

Slit shrugged one shoulder. “No more than anyone down here. You ought to know.”

Furiosa did know, and as she strode away she tried to ignore the dark pit growing in her stomach. The Organic Mechanic’s workshop wasn’t difficult to find, and she weathered the gauntlet of glares and vague threats until she came upon Nux slumped in a chair in a corner. She pulled another chair up to him and settled herself into it as he stared at her like she was a ghost. Her quick glance took in the bag of blood connected to his arm and the bottles of pills all over the bedside stand.

“I know this looks bad -”

She didn’t let him finish.

“Does Capable know about this?”

His glance at the floor told her everything she needed to know.

“Nux, this isn’t something you can keep from her. Not for very long, anyway.” She leaned back in her chair, clasping her hands on her lap and surveying the equipment more closely. “How often do you need this?”

“It’s been getting worse,” he said, shifting with a groan. “I used to need a course once or twice a month. Now it’s more like once or twice a week.”

“Have you been to see a doctor?” she asked.

“Do I look like I have health insurance?” He shrugged, still not meeting her eyes. “We got a guy here, the Organic - he fixes us up.”

She sighed. “You have to know what I’m thinking, Nux.”

“You can’t tell her, Furiosa. I’ll lose her,” he said, holding her gaze with his own, his eyes very wide and very blue. She shook her head.

“Looks to me like she’s more in danger of losing you, Warboy. I already had you pegged for breaking her heart.”

“I wouldn’t do that. I’d never hurt her.” He drew in a shuddering breath and turned his face away from her. “I’d leave, first. You want me to, right? You think I should just leave her alone.”

She shifted so that she was facing him, and surveyed his face, mapping out the flat planes and the dark hollows, the sharp protrusion of bones. The weary curve of his neck and back.

“Every instinct is yelling at me to keep you away from her,” she said finally. “But she’s not my daughter. She’s a grown woman, and she seems to want you.” She hesitated. “I’ve been meaning to increase your hours - make you full-time. I haven’t yet because - to be honest - I’m not convinced you’re reliable. Perhaps it’s time for you to prove me wrong.”

He turned, his eyes widening as he took in her words. “You - you’d do that? Make me full-time?”

“Comes with insurance, including medical. Not exactly premium, but enough for you to get care somewhere that’s not the back of someone’s garage.” She glanced around the room. “Believe me, I know what this life is. I don’t want Capable involved in it. Do you?”

This time, he held her gaze with intensity. “No.” For the first time, his voice didn’t shake.

* * *

The first thing she did when she got back to her office was to calmly pick up her phone and very calmly inform the nasally voice at the other end of the line exactly what it could expect if she did not receive satisfaction. She clearly cited relevant documents and criminal histories, logistics statistics, and a very interesting pamphlet she had once read entitled _Four Ways to Stop Internal Hemorrhaging In a Survival Situation_.

When she hung up, she was smiling.

She leaned out the door and called out, “The orchids will be here before closing, Toast.”


	4. Two Days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yay Ace shows up in this chapter! I love Ace and he definitely only got some flesh wounds when he fell off the War Rig. Also moar Nuxable bc I love them and I want them to be happy :) A HUGE thank-you to everyone who has commented, it means the WORLD to me :D

Furiosa woke at her desk, again, and groaned. The smell of coffee lured her over to the pot, but her hopes were dashed - there was only a teaspoon cooking at the bottom. Cursing Toast and her bad habits, Furiosa went to the break room and rinsed the pot out, filled it, and started the machine brewing. Capable was already there, slumped at her station with her face in her hands. Furiosa left her office and walked over to the red-haired woman, laying a hand on her shoulder.

“Everything ok?” she said quietly. Capable slowly turned a tired face towards her. “Is Angharad all right?”

“Oh - yes.” Capable drew in a deep breath. “Actually, she’s fine. They’re letting her out this afternoon, so I thought I’d get an early start.” She glanced down at her bare workstation. “Sorry, I was just about to start.”

Furiosa didn’t remove her hand. “What’s wrong, Capable?”

“Ahhhhh,” Capable sighed, and turned her face away quickly, but not before Furiosa saw tears suddenly standing out in her eyes. “Nux texted last night, said he wanted to talk. Needed to tell me something.”

Furiosa sank onto the stool next to her, hissing a breath through her teeth as her aching joints protested. “Listen, I don’t want you to worry about that.”

“But I can’t!” Capable turned a pale, miserable face towards her. “What if he’s breaking up with me? What if his family is a bunch of murderers - or religious fanatics - ”

“I know what he’s going to tell you,” Furiosa said. Capable stared, blinking away her tears. “I promise, it’s nothing like that. And if - if something did happen between you two, you know that the rest of us are here for you.”

Capable frowned, opened her mouth to speak, closed it again, and searched Furiosa’s face for a long moment. Then the door opened and the Dag and Cheedo came in, with Toast close on their heels.

“Awww - Capable!” Cheedo cried with concern. “Are you ok? How is Angharad?”

“It’s because the moon is waning this weekend,” the Dag said, nodding as she set down her purse.

“It’s got nothing to do with the moon,” Toast snapped, reaching out to take one of Capable’s hands.

Furiosa squeezed Capable’s shoulder and retreated to her office, sipping at a cup of coffee and watching as her designers surrounded their friend to comfort her. Then she returned to her paperwork and her headache.

Several hours later, Cheedo knocked on her door and stepped inside, fidgeting nervously. Furiosa grunted a greeting, frowning over the spreadsheet she was creating. “What’s up?” she asked, glancing at the young woman.

“Um - I need your help.” Cheedo’s cheeks were red, a sign of frustration, and Furiosa levered herself to her feet and followed her out into the workroom. She saw the problem at once - Cheedo was working on those flower pomander balls for the aisles that someone had seen on Pinterest and insisted on trying. Normally, Angharad would have been in charge of something this tricky but . . . Furiosa nodded encouragingly to Cheedo and settled her hip against the table, holding up the ball to give Cheedo pointers.

Furiosa never got to design nearly as much as she wanted, and she found herself growing more and more enthusiastic about it as she and Cheedo worked side by side, usually in companionable silence but occasionally chatting.

The door rang and Max limped in, glancing over at her office and sighing wearily. He looked to Capable, who gestured over at Cheedo’s station with a smile. Max met Furiosa’s eyes and grunted, then began picking up the arrangements from the delivery table and moving them into the van.

Nux sidled in through the door, nodding at Max with an unusually serious face. Furiosa set down the ball she had half-finished, glancing back at Capable, who had gone pale again. Furiosa looked back at the door and froze. There was someone else there, coming in behind Nux.

He was about the same height as Max, but at least ten years older, with broad shoulders hunched up like he was constantly shrugging. Black goggles were pulled low on his forehead, and his bald pate glistened in the florescent lighting. His t-shirt was faded and ragged and tucked into black cargo pants. Even from this distance, Furiosa could see the heavy scarring on his left cheek and the nub of her arm suddenly was throbbing.

She rose, stepping forward towards the man, whose face darkened upon recognizing her. Max, who had come through the door behind him, frowned at the look on her face and turned to regard the man, a threat evident in the set of his shoulders and his intent stare.

“Max.” She spoke softly. He looked at her with a question in his eyes and she nodded quickly to indicate that it was all right. He blinked slowly, then returned to his deliveries, a line appearing between his eyebrows. She looked at the man with the goggles and gestured, leading the way to her office. He stumped along behind her, silently taking in the cheerfully-painted shop, the buckets of flowers, the girls working at their stations, and Nux settling in carefully next to a pale Capable. She saw the Dag and Toast staring after her and her visitor and whispering avidly, and Cheedo’s large eyes staring over at Capable and Nux, and sighed heavily.

She closed the door behind them and lowered herself into her seat, lifting her eyes to where he stood, large and awkward, twisting his goggles between his hands.

He spoke first. “So it is you. When Morsov started runnin’ his mouth . . .” he shook his head.

“It’s good to see you,” she said quietly. And it was. Surprisingly so - she had run so fast, leaving everything behind, she had never stopped to count the cost. And now here he was. “Ace,” she said, pressing her lips together and fiercely denying the tightening of her throat, the burning in her eyes.

“Furiosa,” he said in reply.

For a long moment she thought he would simply leave then. But he didn’t and the silence quickly grew embarrassing. “Sit down?” she finally suggested, indicating the chair on the other side of her desk. He hesitated, then complied. He struggled to speak for a moment, then finally got some grunting words out.

“Things were bad for a while after you left,” he said, sitting straight as a rail with his hands on his knees. “Couple of times we coulda used your help.”

She nodded slowly, barely able to look at him. “I heard.”

“So you didn’t forget about us.” He nodded, bracing himself with his hands on his knees and letting his head drop. She closed her eyes against the defeat evident in his posture and dug her fingernails into her palms.

“Forget about you?” She heard the catch in her voice and glared, daring the world at large to remark on it. She raised her left arm and slammed the prosthetic down on her desk. “How could I forget? You know what that life cost me. You _told_ me to get out.”

“Never thought you’d be willing to sacrifice what you did to do it, though,” he said. But his face was ashen as he gazed at the remains of her arm. “I didn’t come here to fight,” he said finally.

“Then what did you come for?” She was aware that her voice was two tones too antagonistic, but something about the Ace had always made her that way. He just reminded her of the good she had left behind that day. _Not enough good to outweigh the bad_ , she reminded herself.

He stabbed a finger at the glass door and said, “That boy out there is a good ‘un. Deserves better.”

Heat rushed up her neck, warmed her cheeks. “Better than what? A short, brutal life? Getting illegal blood dripped into him because he can’t get proper treatment? Better than selling your life to some faceless old man for some imaginary paradise - ”

“Exactly.” The Ace nodded, his mouth twisting. “Never even told us about you. About getting married. About this - Green Place.” He gestured vaguely around at the shop. He hesitated, then leaned forward, his eyes intent. “Get him _out of it_ , Furiosa. Away from the life. If anyone can do it, it’s you. And those girls out there.” He paused, breathing hard, and leaned back, fingers digging into his knees. Then he gave a short nod and stood. “That’s what I came to tell you.”

She sat still, amazement thundering through her, for so long that he was almost out the door before she could pull herself together long enough to stop him.

“Listen – Ace.” He halted by the door, turning his head slightly to look back at her. She rose, fumbling with a stack of envelopes on her desk. She held one out to him, nodding gently for him to take it. He did, holding it gingerly between two grease-stained fingers. “I know it’s probably not your thing but – come to the wedding. If you have time, I mean.”

He stared at her, then nodded jerkily before yanking open the door and making his escape. Furiosa followed him after a moment, noting that the delivery van was gone and that the workroom was unusually silent. Capable and Nux were no longer at their table, she noted, and Cheedo was barely pretending to work, her fingers fumbling with the shorn heads of flower stems littered all over her station. Toast, in contrast, was working with furious concentration, her teeth bared as petals and leaves fell around her in a shower. The Dag was receiving new flowers in a slow, melancholy fashion, humming tunelessly under her breath.

When the back door finally opened and Capable and Nux stepped inside, clinging to one another’s hands and with their heads leaning together, Furiosa could see that Capable had been crying. And so had Nux, she rather guessed.

“Are you still getting married?” Cheedo squeaked, looking at them through a curtain of dark hair.

Capable stepped away from Nux and wrapped her arms around the younger woman, murmuring fiercely, “ _Yes._ Of course. Of course,” she said more loudly for the others’ benefit, and she met Furiosa’s eyes over Cheedo’s head, a glance that was both confident and terrified. Furiosa met her eyes and nodded, smiling faintly and putting her own comforting arm around the Dag, who was muttering something that might have been a prayer.

“Cheedo,” she said firmly, “Let’s get those pomanders done. Tomorrow I might need you to work on some boutonnieres for Nuxs’ family.”

Nux’s head jerked around and he stared at her, and she smiled back with a slow nod. Cheedo was saying excitedly from her other side, “You’d let _me_ do that? Really? I already know what flowers we should use - was that man with the goggles Nux’s dad? Do you know him, Furiosa?”

Furiosa sat down at Cheedo’s station, smiling at the questions, and worked until the afternoon sun was drifting in dusty with sand from the not-too-distant Wasteland, and Toast was complaining that she was about to die from hunger while smiling in a satisfied fashion at the ten table arrangements standing ready on her station. Behind them, Capable and Nux were whispering together as they worked on the standing arrangements, winding electric-blue orchids into drooping ferns and spiraling brown curly willow. Furiosa checked her watch.

“It’s about time for Angharad to be getting out, isn’t it?” she said.

Capable jumped, digging in her pockets for her phone. “Oh _fang_ it,” she snapped. “I’m going to be late. Anyone want to come?”

“Me!” Cheedo shrieked, scrambling to get the flowers wrapped and ready for transport.

“I’m coming!” Toast said, pelting to the back fridge with her arrangements and trying to chew an energy bar at the same time.

“Is there room for me?” the Dag asked in a breathy whisper.

Capable dragged plastic around her arrangements and nodded as Nux stapled it, then looked at Furiosa.

“I’ll stay here - I’ve got some things to finish,” Furiosa said. “Tell her I’m glad she’s all right?”

She retreated into her office in the face of pandemonium, as every one of the designers suddenly remembered something that they needed to tell her, and screeched at each other, and ran about in a frantic rush. She poured another cup into her coffee mug and settled down at her desk, eyes suddenly blurring with weariness.

She woke up with a familiar-smelling leather jacket draped over her, and fresh coffee in the pot. Everything was quiet, it was almost midnight, and she was alone.


	5. One Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Almost time for the wedding! This chapter is short but lots of Rockafury fluff if that's what you're into :) Also Dog because I love Dog.

Angharad was at the shop the next morning when Furiosa emerged from her office. There was still a bandage on her forehead, and the road rash on her arms looked red and sore, but she greeted Furiosa with a grin and a hug and a whispered “Capable seems so much calmer! What did you say to her?”

“It wasn’t me,” Furiosa whispered back, stepping out from the hug and nodding at Nux. “How are you?” She gently touched the edge of the bandage and found herself blinking back tears.

“I’m fine. Really,” Angharad pressed her forehead against Furiosa’s and then stepped back. “You haven’t been blaming yourself, have you?”

“If I hadn’t left early . . .” Furiosa had to take in a long breath to level out her breathing. “If Max hadn’t been there . . .”

“But he _was_ ,” Angharad whispered. “And whatever you want to tell yourself, it was my own stupid fault for being so reckless. I normally carry my mace but I was still so hung over . . .”

“Not _your_ fault,” Toast growled from her station. “Those idiots who hurt you. I wish Max had done more than put them in the hospital - _I_ would have.”

“I’m so glad you’re back,” Furiosa said, smiling. She turned away to return to her office. “I’ve got to get those forms ready . . .”

_“Furiosa._ ” She stopped, looked back at the other women, and saw that they were all looking at her. Angharad had her arms crossed. The Dag was chewing on her lower lip. Toast took a step forward and seized Furiosa’s flesh arm, propelling her towards the door.

“Go _home_ Furiosa. Get some rest. Max was in here earlier . . . asking why you haven’t been home since Tuesday?”

Furiosa grimaced.

“He looks nice but I don’t want him thinking we’re working you to death in here,” Angharad said, smiling. “The wedding isn’t until tomorrow. Take a break. Eat something. Sleep for more than an hour at a stretch. I promise everything will still be here when you get back.”

“I can fill out the order forms for you,” Capable said with a smile. “I’ve got the list right here.”

Furiosa hesitated. But she _was_ tired, she had to admit that, and the leather jacket was still slung over the back of her chair like an accusation. “Fine,” she said. “But you’re to call me if anything . . .”

Fifteen minutes later they propelled her, blinking, into the early morning sunlight. She approached her car, thinking blearily of the gym, but she was way too tired. And she had really been delaying the inevitable for too long. So she got in her car and headed for his house.

Dog (she had suggested other names but had never gotten more than a noncommittal shrug for her trouble) greeted her enthusiastically at the door. Max poked his head around the kitchen door and froze when he saw her, and she walked towards him, words tumbling through her mind but somehow unable to progress to her mouth.

He was halfway through a stack of pancakes, and there was another plate already laid out. She had to clear her throat roughly when she saw it, and she settled down into the seat, not daring to look at him.

“Hey.” She nodded, and he responded with a grunt. A moment later, there was a second cup for her. She inspected it - milk.

“No coffee?” she hazarded, already knowing what the answer would be.

He didn’t _exactly_ glare. But he didn’t move towards the coffee pot either. “Need some sleep,” he grunted.

She really couldn’t argue with that. As he set pancakes down for her, she rolled her aching shoulders and fought against sudden, bizarre tears.

His hands were on her shoulders suddenly, thumbs rubbing in circles, spreading warmth, pain, and relief. She hissed between her teeth and let her head hang forward as he worked his way down along her shoulder blades and back up along her spine to the base of her skull.

“Thank you,” she muttered into the table. It was always so much easier to talk when she wasn’t looking at him. “It’s - it’s hard to rely on someone.” She knew that it was urgent that he knew this, and she wanted to berate herself for missing such an obvious point, but it was hard to concentrate on self-flagellation with his thumbs circling around the tension in her trapezius muscles. “I’m used to - to dealing with things on my own. I’m not used to having someone - to share things with.”

He grunted affirmatively. She wondered if that would be it, until he continued, “Are you ready now?”

She clutched at her seat - the knot was disappearing, but _dear Valhalla it hurt._ “I don’t know,” she admitted. The pain faded, and she reached up to take his hands, stopping him. “I want to try.”

He was silent for several long moments. “Thought you were gone for good,” he said finally. There was a tiny hitch in his voice that hit her harder than a punch.

She couldn’t look at him. She surged to her feet and stepped towards him, keeping her eyes on the ragged collar of his favorite ratty t-shirt. The chair was still there like a barrier between them, and she shoved it aside so that it landed with a clatter on its side. She stepped close to him, close enough that she could feel his warmth radiating against her, and pressed her forehead against his, laying her hand gently on the back of his neck. She breathed in deeply through her nose and pressed her eyes tightly closed, just feeling his nearness and letting him feel hers.

After a long, long moment, she felt his fingers winding through the short hairs on the back of her neck, and she sighed deeply.

“I’m sorry I’ve been gone for so long,” she murmured.

They stood like that, holding each other and breathing, until the loud grumbling of her stomach brought her back to the present with a lurch. He released her, nodding and fumbling with the hem of his t-shirt, and picked up the chair so that she could sit.

“Syrup?” he asked, clearing his throat.

When she was finished plowing through her pancakes, she looked up at him to find that he was gazing into the middle distance somewhere between her head and the back door, and digging his fingers into the fur behind Dog’s ears while Dog wriggled with ecstasy. He roused himself to meet her gaze, and they looked at each other for a moment.

“I’m going out for delivery,” he said finally, glancing at the microwave clock. “You gonna be ok?”

She nodded, stifling a yawn. She stumbled down the hallway to the bathroom, then flung herself down on top of the comforter, noting in passing that it looked like he had actually been cleaning. Through a haze, she heard him rooting around in the dresser, then letting Dog out into the backyard. When she heard his footsteps back in the room, she roused herself long enough to mumble, “Hey - your jacket’s in my car.”

Dog jumped into bed with her at some point and wriggled around for a while before finally settling himself sprawled out almost on top of her. She fell asleep under his warm weight.

* * *

She woke to find that the weight pressing her into the mattress was now Max’s arm and half of his torso. Dog was curled up at their feet, and for the first time that week that she could remember she didn’t feel so stressed that her mind was numb. She sat up slowly, amazed that Max didn’t pause in his snoring, but a quick glance at the bedside stand confirmed that he had taken some of the elephant tranquilizers that he needed when his knee got bad. The clock on the stand informed her that it was 4:17 PM.

She reached for her prosthetic, intending to jump in the shower and go to the shop before closing, but as she shifted he let out a groan and his hands clung to her waist.

“Sorry,” she murmured. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”

 “Stay,” he grumbled, his eyelids fluttering.

It really was no contest. “Ok,” she said, leaning back against the headrest and adjusting herself so that his head was pillowed on her stomach and the nub of her arm was resting across his shoulders. With her flesh hand, she began to gently stroke his hair, running her fingers down the stubble that carpeted his cheek. The gentle noises that he made in response to her touch seemed to skip her ears and enter directly into her chest, filling her with a feeling that was partly immensely calming and also like being shocked by a 100-volt wire.

“Are you awake?” she asked, still trying to smooth down that one piece of hair on the back of his head that always stuck up no matter what she did.

He grunted negative. She whacked him on the shoulder. He opened his eyes and regarded her with the innocence of a puppy.

“I have to go back in sometime,” she said. “And did you miss your 2:30 deliveries?”

“No,” he said in a voice that was filled with deep wounding that she would suggest such a thing. “Toast volunteered to take them. She was done and she seemed to think that I should be here.”

She nodded and relaxed against the headboard, closing her eyes.

“There’s something else,” she said finally, opening her eyes but not looking at him. She felt rather as if she were standing on the edge of a precipice, preparing to take a jump. “Um - my lease is up at the end of this month. I should have told you earlier but . . . I’ve been kinda. Putting off renewing it.” He turned his head to meet her gaze, his face slightly creased with concern. She waited for several breathless moments, then muttered, “Throw me a bone here, Max. I’m asking if I can move in.”

He closed his eyes and let her stew for several more moments. Then he grunted. “Well. The Dog seems to like you.”

She grinned, shoving him so that he nearly fell headfirst off the bed.

%MCEPASTEBIN%


	6. The Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY the wedding :D This chapter is long bc I had so many awesome headcanons that I needed to put in. I hope you all enjoy :)  
> BIG shoutout to my awesome beta readers, especially [Keziah](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Keziah/pseuds/Keziah) and [Ibrokethewhammy](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Ibrokethewhammy/pseuds/Ibrokethewhammy) for being so cool and awesome :) And if you want to know where the amazing artwork came from, look no further than [Spizacki](spizacki.tumblr.com) who is just the most amazing and talented artist EVER.  
> 

They drove to the venue - a barn ten miles out of the city, in the foothills of the mountains - together, and Max leaned his arm out of the window while Furiosa grumbled over Google Maps. Dog stuck his head out of the window for a while, then settled himself into the seat with a happy groan and watched them with twitching ears. The sun was just starting to peek over the horizon when they arrived, and Furiosa noted with relief that Capable and Toast’s cars were already parked near the farmhouse.

“Nux should be in the groom’s section,” she pointed Max in the right direction, squeezing his hand before heading off towards the bride’s side of the house. She knocked at the door and was nearly knocked off her feet by Toast shoving it open and then dragging her inside. Everyone was sitting around in varying stages of undress, waiting to put on their dresses until the last moment. The photographer was already there, chatting with Angharad in the corner. Cheedo leapt up when she saw Furiosa and hurried over, hissing, “I made you something special last night . . .”

“Oh good, you’re here!” Angharad was there suddenly, grabbing Furiosa’s arm. “Now we can start taking pictures. I wish you’d wear a dress, at least.”

Furiosa snorted, but suffered herself to be dragged over to the fireplace, where a seriously interminable amount of pictures were snapped. The photographer, who was a wiry old lady with lots of tattoos, kept moving Furiosa into a more prominent position, and rearranging her clothes, and telling her “Smile wider, dear. This is a joyous occasion.”

Furiosa was relieved when all the cute shots of them giggling around Capable were done and it was time to start taking care of other things. Angharad pulled a dressing gown on and went to go call the caterers, and Toast ran around checking the decorations and clucking over the flowers. Capable sat pale-faced by the fireplace and Cheedo sat next to her, talking in a comforting whisper.

“Furiosa,” Toast called, and soon Furiosa found herself out in the pale light of morning, spraying arrangements and snipping off fading blooms. She lost herself in the work for a while, and then Cheedo was at her side again.

“I want you to see what I made for you - ” she began, but then Toast was bellowing:

“TIME FOR DRESSES!”

They hurried inside and the rest of the women began wriggling into their various outfits. They were all technically bridesmaids, but everyone had dressed according to her own desire. Therefore, Toast was in booty shorts and a ruffly shirt, and the Dag was in a floaty chiffon confection, and Angharad in something sheathy and elegant, and Cheedo swirling the skirt of a dress that looked vintage 50s.

Then everyone started crowding around the mirrors in the bathroom and along the wall, messing around with curling irons and bags of makeup, and Angharad grabbed Furiosa and forced her to submit to some lip gloss and mascara. She ruffled her hand through Furiosa’s short hair with a little sigh, then brightened and came back with Toast’s tube of hair gel, which she used to style Furiosa’s hair into a little foehawk.

“Cute,” Capable giggled, which made Furiosa want to scrub her hands through her hair.

Finally, that part was over and it was time to turn their attention on the bride. Furiosa found herself holding up the train of the dress to keep it from getting underfoot while the others tied the bodice around Capable’s waist and fussed with her long red hair. When they were done, half of her hair tumbled down her back with the exuberance of a scarlet waterfall and the rest was woven with pearls and pinned up. Her dress was knee-length at the front, but dove down in the back into a train that just barely dragged on the ground.

Cheedo stepped back, clasping her hands at her lips and grinning. “You look _stunning_ ,” she gasped.

The Dag tugged at Capable’s curls and laughed. “That boy won’t know what hit him.”

Capable laughed and twirled around to admire the lacy hem that flared out as she moved. Furiosa smiled as the other designers danced around her, laughing and cheering as if this dress were the symbol of all their hopes for the future.

Capable stopped twirling suddenly, gathering up her skirt with alarm. “I think I snagged on something,” she said.

“Oh no,” the Dag darted forward, lifting up the hem of Capable’s dress with shaking hands. Upon close inspection, Furiosa saw a rip that extended about an inch above the seam.

“I don’t think anyone will notice,” Angharad said soothingly, reaching for the emergency kit. “Maybe I can just stitch it quickly -”

“This is a disaster!” the Dag moaned, looking to the heavens and throwing up her hands in a gesture of supplication. Angharad elbowed her out of the way and settled to the ground with a grunt, pulling thread and needle out of the emergency kit.

“Wait a bit -” The Dag said, throwing open the door and running out. Cheedo followed her with an alarmed expression while everyone else watched Angharad sewing.

Angharad glanced up at Furiosa with the threat between her teeth. “I was so nervous because everything seemed to be going too well,” she said. “I guess I can relax now, huh?”

Everyone jumped as the door banged open and the Dag came in, followed by an apologetic Cheedo.

“I found it!” the Dag ran forward, beaming. Her hands were clasped together, and she paused in front of Capable, opening her hands over the bouquet the red-haired woman was carrying.

Capable stared down at the small spider now scurrying into her bouquet. There was a breathless silence, where Furiosa clearly saw the thought of violence pass over Capable’s face.

“Everything’s going to be all right now,” the Dag smiled, pecking Capable on the cheek before swirling away.

There was a knock at the door and Toast pulled it open to find Max standing out there, shrugging uncomfortably in his button-up shirt. Furiosa moved towards him but he said, “Need to talk to Capable.” She nodded, and the bride came towards him with a curious look on her face. He gestured for her to come outside, and Toast leaned out the door to call after him:

“Make sure Nux doesn’t see her! It’s bad luck!”

The Dag snorted. “ _Now_ who has strange superstitions?”

Max grunted, and Furiosa listened with half an ear to Angharad arguing with the band on the phone until the door reopened and Capable came in alone, holding something small in her hand, with tears glittering in her eyes.

“What did he want?” Toast asked, coming forward curiously.

“He gave me something,” Capable said, glancing up at Furiosa. “Said he’d heard I needed ‘something borrowed’. Said it belonged to someone he cared about, a long time ago.” She nodded to Toast. “Help me put it on?”

Furiosa looked closer and saw that it was a delicate necklace made of gold, with a light blue stone pendant that sparkled in the light. “Gorgeous,” Cheedo pronounced with a grin.

“I - uh - asked him to walk me down the aisle,” Capable said, looking slightly chagrined.

“Thought you were doing that yourself?” the Dag asked.

“I was, I was. But I don’t know. Anyways, I asked him.” She chuckled, turning the pendant over in her fingers. “You know Max. Didn’t exactly throw his arms around me and start crying.”

Everyone laughed uproariously at this, and suddenly Furiosa found herself in a circle of women, all trying to one-up each other with stories about Max’s odd, endearing ways.

“Remember that time you hugged him, Cheedo? His eyes got so big!”

“Yeah! He didn’t really hug me back, just kind of gingerly patted my shoulder with like, one finger. I actually thought he might say ‘there, there’!”

“Well get this, one time I had a date and I don’t even know how Max found out about it but he comes up to me with this - _folder_ and just hands it to me and grunts and when I open it it’s a _complete background check_ \- official, mind you, with the MPF seal and everything. Turns out the guy who wanted to take me out ice-skating had done time for assault!”

“Ok - ok - but remember when he first started at the shop, how he wouldn’t eat lunch with us? I found out where he was, he would sit out in the back. By the _dumpster!_ It took me about three weeks to convince him to come inside with us.”

"And - " Toast could barely speak for laughter, "one time I asked what kind of hit he gets, because I saw track marks on his arms, you know? He gets red and offended and _pulls out a blood donor card_. He didn't even look at me for three days after that."

"Oh, he told me about that!" The Dag fluttered her fingers excitedly. "Universal donor. I guess that means they're always calling and wanting to suck his blood."

“Ugh.” Cheedo shuddered. “I hate needles.”

Angharad checked her watch and get out a sudden gasp. “It’s already ten!” she said. “Hurry, get the veil - and someone call the caterers - where are the rings -”

Furiosa found herself once again caught up in a whirlwind of activity as the designers rushed with frantic fury to tasks that she barely comprehended. She eventually stole outside and walked to the green where rows of chairs were set up facing the flower-draped arbor. There were already people waiting there, many of them with that bright red hair that marked them as Capable’s family, and many others with shaved heads gleaming in the sunlight as they waited. Furiosa settled herself into a seat at the end of a row, near the back, wondering idly if Nux would grow his hair out. Eventually, she decided.

There was a slight commotion among the Warboys behind her, and she glanced back to see a familiar figure stumping among them, ignoring their excited greetings. The Ace took a seat at the other end of the row, nodding at her with a stoic face. She returned the greeting with a faint smile, and sat back in her seat, feeling unaccountably as if a weight had been lifted off her.

_I’m just glad Nux has people here_ , she told herself. Certainly, she wasn’t glad to see him. Was she? The worry that she had not severed the past as firmly as she thought began to niggle at her.

Then Nux was there, hurrying up the aisle with coattails flapping. A Warboy, who she tentatively identified as Slit, came after, digging fingers into his collar with a disgruntled expression. They came to halt in front of the arbor, fidgeting and glancing around as if expecting attack at any moment.

Music started to play not long after that, and Furiosa turned in her seat to watch her designers coming up the aisle, grinning as they scattered flowers on the waiting guests. She saw the best man, Slit, stand up straighter when he saw Toast, and privately hoped he would try something, just for the hilarity. Cheedo was shrinking under all of the eyes, clinging to the Dag’s arm. Furiosa smiled at her, trying to give her confidence.

Then Capable appeared, and Max stepped to her side and offered her his arm. They walked up the aisle slowly, and for a wonder Max wasn’t limping. His back was straight and his shoulders square, and there was an expression on his face that Furiosa didn’t recognize. Pride? She considered it, then turned her attention to Capable.

The designers had done an amazing job, she had to admit. Capable looked wonderful, in a soft and ethereal way that was unlike her usual competent sharpness. Furiosa wondered if she was the only one who noticed how tightly Capable was clinging onto Max’s arm.

Nux stood tall and uncomfortable in a suit that was actually buttoned, a tie that someone else had most likely tied for him, but Furiosa watched as his face softened. She knew that most of the other guests were looking around to see Capable gliding up the aisle, but she couldn’t tear her gaze away from the look of awe and joy on Nux’s lean, scarred face. Tears came and went in his eyes, and he sniffled and swiped at his nose.

When they had completed their trek up the aisle, Capable reached out a hand and Nux took it. Furiosa could see his hand shaking even from this distance.

The rest of the ceremony was a dreamy haze, punctuated by the buzzing of insects and the lulling drone of voices from the arbor. Furiosa paid little attention to what was said, but spent the time studying the faces of the people surrounding her.

Angharad’s face was wet but she made no effort to mop her face, and she was grinning almost nonstop. Toast maintained an expressionless dignity, but her eyes were too bright. Cheedo looked solemn as she watched through her curtains of dark hair, and she clung to the Dag’s arm. The Dag was watching with breathless intensity, mouthing the words along with the couple under the arbor, her hands tight around her bouquet. Max stood still, a little hunched over now (she suspected that he hadn’t counted on standing the whole time, and knew that his knee must be bothering him by now) but still with that half-smile carved into his face. She saw the Ace honking into a grease-blackened rag, wiping at the tears that were streaming from his eyes. Behind him, some Warboys were leaning forward with avid interest, exchanging muttered comments - about their boss or the ceremony, Furiosa couldn’t tell.

She was almost startled when it was over - it seemed like one second all was peaceful stillness, and the next there was a great uproar of clapping and Furiosa looked up at the arbor to see that Capable had Nux firmly by the lapels and judging by the look on the Warboy’s face, he had been planning a more dignified embrace. Max was grinning into his hand and the other designers were hugging each other and giggling.

Then there was another round of pictures, seemingly endless, as the chatty old photographer danced around barking orders and darting forward to drag Max out from where he was hiding behind people. “Smile, sonny, this isn’t your funeral,” she told him at least a hundred times.

Furiosa realized that she was starving at least an hour before they were finally set free, and the wedding party crowded around a table in the pavilion that was stacked with sandwiches, lemonade, and various colorful salads. Furiosa piled two plates with food, then threaded her way through the crowd to a table in the back where Max was sitting, holding Dog’s leash and rubbing his knee absently. He grunted in thanks for the food and dug in, feeding bites to Dog.

She ate a sandwich in silence, then started in on a salad. “The necklace,” she began. She saw the way his whole body stiffened, even though she was carefully not looking at him. She wondered if he actually thought she’d ask. “It meant a lot to Capable. Thank you.”

He relaxed, grunting affirmatively, and they finished their meal in silence. Then they sat back in their chairs and watched as the rest of the group played games that involved lots of uproarious laughter, running, and pounding music. The Warboys were quick and competitive, but Furiosa noted with amusement that her designers won most of the time through a combination of teamwork and utter ruthlessness. The Dag especially sank her teeth into more than one someone before people started just letting her get what she wanted.

Then Capable dragged Nux onto the dance platform and they were soon joined by a cheering crowd of gyrating bodies pulsing to a beat that Furiosa could feel in her bones.

“Mediocre, Nux!” someone yelled, and she saw Morsov standing nearby, next to a stolid Ace. Without missing a beat, Ace drove his fist into Morsov’s belly, then refolded his arms and nodded his head along to the music while Morsov writhed and groaned at his feet. Furiosa hid her smile in a glass.

The dancing went on all afternoon, punctuated by games and giggling, increasingly-drunken toasts. Slit somehow convinced Toast to dance with him and whispered in her ear until she laid him out with a left hook to the jaw, and the Dag and Cheedo nearly busted their guts laughing at him.

At some point, Max wandered away, leading Dog on the leash, and she sat alone at the table, smiling as people brought her drinks. The designers knew that she never drank alcohol, but their solicitude about her sitting by herself in the hot afternoon air meant that her lemonade glass was never empty.

When the afternoon was beginning to darken into evening, Angharad took the stage with a microphone and announced the bouquet toss. The dance floor was soon filled with shoving women, the Dag most prominent with her wild grin and flying white hair. She and Cheedo screamed and dove when Capable tossed her flowers, but after a moment of tussling someone else emerged victorious.

“Got it!” Toast whirled away with a giggle, the prize held aloft in her fist.

“You don’t have to be so _grabby_ ,” the Dag yelled, rubbing some ribs that were probably bruised.

Then Slit gave a speech that was 80% too rude to repeat, 15% unintelligible due to drunken slurring, and 5% actually pretty sweet. Furiosa wiped at her eyes and clapped. Angharad followed, and this time Furiosa jerked in surprise when her name was mentioned.

“I know this wedding is about Capable and Nux,” Angharad said, glancing at the back of the room where her boss was sitting. “But I can’t let someone else go unrecognized. None of this would have been possible without that woman over there - Furiosa. We all came to Furiosa because we were lost, and broken, and scarred, and afraid. She took us in and gave us dignity and hope again. The first time I met Capable . . .” She stopped, staring at nothing, then took a deep breath and tried again. “She was covered in bruises from the boyfriend she was too scared to leave. And now look at her.”

Furiosa did look at Capable, but she saw that almost everyone else was looking at her. Capable’s eyes were bright with tears, and her hand was twined with Nux’s, who was staring at her like he’d only just realized the pretty stone he had found was actually a diamond. Toast’s face was set and rigid, but there was a smile carved into the corners of her mouth as she looked at Furiosa. Cheedo clung to the Dag, biting her lip and sobbing, and the Dag looked like a porcelain doll, her eyes too big for her pale face.

“I won’t embarrass you anymore, Fury,” Angharad said from the stage, “But it’s time your service got the recognition it deserved. Everyone, Furiosa Jobassa, our hero.”

There was a roar of applause that Furiosa endured only by imagining what Max would do in this situation. He’d be bright red from the neck up, and rubbing at his stubble the way he did when he was unbelievable uncomfortable. Finally, the applause was done and someone else rose to make a toast.

Furiosa rose to her feet, leaving her lemonade to seek the darkness and anonymity outside the pavilion, but before she got there, someone stopped her.

“I didn’t get to give this to you before,” Cheedo said breathlessly, cramming something onto her head.

Furiosa put her hands up, half in reflex, and discovered what felt like a crown of flowers, with ribbons dangling down past her shoulders. Her first instinct was to pull it off and . . . refuse? But Cheedo’s eyes were bright with the excitement of the day, and Furiosa knew that she would have to wear the crown for the rest of the evening or risk extinguishing that hopeful smile.

“Ahhhh- thanks,” she managed with a half-smile. “Um, when did you find time to make this?”

“I stayed late last night, finishing the boutonnieres for Nux’s family,” Cheedo explained. “Once I got done with that I realized we didn’t have anything for you . . . so.”

“You’re getting really good, you know,” Furiosa told her, resting a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Thank you.”

She stood with her shoulder against a pillar, watching Capable’s face as she leaned against Nux, her face almost literally shining with some joy that Furiosa could barely imagine. The music pulsed and throbbed, vibrating inside her head until she found herself pushing back the flowers to rub at her forehead. Give her the roar of an engine any day; music was too much, it demanded your attention.

Someone touched her arm, and she turned to see Max behind her. He held her gaze for a long time, or at least it felt like a long time.

“Uhhh, the flowers,” he finally said, gesturing vaguely at his head. She put her hands to her head and found that her crown was crooked, and straightened it.

“Thanks,” she told him.

“Oh, no, I um.” He squinted at the dance floor, and she waited patiently for him to finish his thought. “Looks nice,” he said finally. He shifted, looked down at the floor while he scuffed at it with his shoe. “You look nice. Uhh. Pretty.”

She considered this while watching Capable giggle over at table at Angharad. Pretty? She couldn’t remember the last time she’d thought of herself that way. She thought of her body in terms of how useful, how functional it was - an engine that ran a certain way. That was a Warboy notion, she remembered. Things had been different before her mother died - she had had long hair back then. Had she been pretty? Her mother had certainly thought so.

She glanced again at Max, who was waiting patiently. She wondered if she should call him ‘handsome’ - which he certainly was, in the soft golden light with his top button unbuttoned and his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Instead, she said, “Are you going to ask me to dance?”

This suggestion seemed to unnerve him as much as being called ‘pretty’ had for her, so she took the hand he offered and led him away from the pavilion towards the old barn outlined black against the sunset.

It was twilight by then, and the music filtered through the drowsy flower fields and past the old rusty barn as they swayed slowly in graceless tandem. She could tell by the way he moved that his knee was bothering him, but she allowed him to lead her in a meandering circle as she pressed her chin against his shoulder, breathing in the scent of his skin and the fields. They made it through two and a half songs before he finally staggered and came to halt, favoring his left leg.

A grunt that was more than half curse slipped out of him, and she held back a grin. “You should have said something,” she said, pulling his arm over her shoulders and leading him back towards the pavilion.

“Uhhh, I -” He took another step and almost buckled, and she halted for a moment, letting him rebalance. “Sorry,” he said at length. “I think the weather’s changing.”

She glanced at the sky. “Autumn’s almost here,” she said quietly. She helped him to a chair and he grunted his thanks, then she settled herself next to him, and surprised herself by taking his hand and holding it in her lap.

They sat in companionable silence, watching as the crowd thinned until finally there was only Capable and Nux revolving slowly on the dance floor to the soft crooning of Frank Sinatra. Angharad joined them, levering herself wearily into a chair beside Furiosa, and then the Dag perched on Max’s armrest, and Cheedo sat on the floor by him and rested her head on his leg. Toast sank into a chair next to Angharad and sipped at a glass of beer. They watched the wedding pair dance until stars were reeling drunkenly overhead, and they were the only ones left. Then Capable led Nux over, grinning.

“Are you going to let us leave yet, Angharad?” she asked.

“Not yet!” Angharad leaped to her feet and dragged Toast with her, and the rest of them sat for a while, laughing and talking at intervals.

“Perfect,” Nux said with a grin that almost bisected his skeletal face. “Just - a perfect day.” He looked over at Capable and she squeezed his hand.

Angharad and Toast returned, their arms full of gifts. “You can open most of the gifts later,” Angharad said, setting them on the table next to the newlyweds, “But you should open these before you go. Just the ones from all of us.” She gestured at the group around the table.

Capable and Nux bent over their gifts, tearing at silver-printed paper and giggling at cards, and Furiosa started to drift into a drowse, her head slipping down to rest on Angharad’s shoulder.

The Dag let out a high-pitched scream that had Furiosa jerking awake and reaching for the nearest weapon. Everyone else had frozen, looking nonplussed - especially Max. Capable looked up from her latest gift, a set of kitchen knives, with wide eyes.

“ _Max!_ ” the Dag said in a shocked whisper. “Don’t you know about giving knives as a wedding gift?”

**Author's Note:**

> PS: Thanks SO MUCH to the amazing [Spizacki](http://spizacki.tumblr.com/) for the artwork. You should all go follow her. And if you want to fangirl madly about Mad Max or Tom Hardy, you can find me [here](http://tater-tots-last-of-the-romanovs.tumblr.com/) :)


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